The Resolution

Once again I find myself at this inane display of indulgence and degradation, wallowing in self-pity. I could have said no. I should have said no. But for some reason, whenever Sophie asks me to a party, there is no refusing her. There was that one time I almost escaped by insisting that I was required at the hospital that day and couldn’t possibly attend her soiree doped up on painkillers. Apparently no. She picked me up, allowed me to babble about for the entire evening in a drug-induced stupor before suggesting “Craig” that nice guy from work drives me home.

Which he did.

I think.

I don’t actually recall the evening, but since Craig’s baby didn’t show up nine months later, I assume he was a perfect gentleman.

Unlike Patrick.

Still, there are worse things in the world, than being unable to say no to your little sister.

Sophie was flitting from reveller to reveller like the literal social butterfly, laughing and smiling in such a way that none could help but instantly fall in love with her. She caught my eye and shot me the same coy yet confident smirk that awoke the mother wolf inside me.

Does she even remember? It had been almost a year exactly since I made my promise. We never spoke of it again and looking at her well-polished veneer, how could anyone believe there were gaping cracks beneath that perfectly glazed surface. My New Year’s Resolution had left me so chewed up inside for an entire year, it seemed almost unfair that Sophie could exist in such ambivalence.

Looks can be deceiving.

I took a long sip of my champagne and surveyed the scene around me. I began to imagine if anyone else had made a new year’s resolution. Losing weight is the most common half-baked promise made on the December 31^s and Daniel would be a perfect contender for that one. The corners of my mouth began to curl involuntarily as I watched the globules of fat jiggling under his shirt when he tried to dance. His resolution couldn’t have lasted more than a week at most. A stab of shame flushed through me admonishing me for my thoughts so I hastily turned away and collided with him.

“Whoa Jess! You could play football with a tackle like that,” he proclaimed, his sparkling with nauseating confidence.

“Yeah, I guess I could,” I murmured in reply. Under my breath I cursed myself for being so eloquent in my head, but unable to string more than a few syllables together in person.

Especially in front of him.

“Sophie twisted your arm into coming then?” Stating the obvious surely, but I couldn’t give him the smug satisfaction of being right.

“No, I’ve been looking forward to this party since last year.”

“Really? Given how you’re cowered here in the corner, avoiding eye contact with people and studying the patterns in the carpet, I could have sworn you didn’t actually want to be here.” Damn his powers of perception! Fortunately Sophie swanned over to rescue me from drowning further in this conversation.

“Patrick, you’re being nice to my sister aren’t you?” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Of course, snookums,” he replied, grabbing her in a hungry embrace. For a splinter of a second I glimpsed Sophie flinch before the stillness returned to her millpond face. “Jess, was just telling me how much she was enjoying the party.” He gave me a playful grin and I eyed him evilly, summoning the floor to open up and swallow him.

“Come dance with me!” Sophie must have sensed the tension. I watched them strut around together on the dance floor, like the king and queen of the prom. Had I not known the truth, I might have enjoyed the moment.

Unbidden, memories flashed before my eyes of that fateful evening a year ago. How Sophie, now a radiant princess, was a craven husk of a woman, bawling on the floor in the laundry when I stumbled upon her. The tears streaming down her face had begun to streak her usually perfect make-up and through the wet lines on her face, I saw the truth peep out. Unmistakable purple and brown hues gave the tell tale signals of a black eye and the bruising gave clues to the other swelling on her face. I hugged my poor baby sister, like a mother duck with her duckling, and waited, listening to her tears transform from howls to whimpers and finally some sniffles with a few hiccups.

“He didn’t mean it,” she whispered finally, “At least that’s what he said. But that’s what he always says. I’m so confused; I don’t know what to think. How can someone say they love you, then make you feel so unloved?”

“Leave him! You can stay with me as long as you need and we’ll get one of those restraining order thingies. People will help you.” She turned to me and gave me a patronising look I’ll never forget.

“Oh Jess, you really have no idea.” It was at that point, she didn’t look like my baby sister, but some harrowed old woman twenty years older. “There is no way for me to leave. He has my money, my keys, everything. Also he said he would kill everyone if I ever tried. Mum, Dad, you. Even little Jocko.” Of course she was putting everyone else’s wellbeing first, even the bloody dog!

“I can’t just walk away from this, knowing what is happening to you. I need to do something.”

“Well there is something...”

It was then that I swore my oath. I made my New Year’s Resolution on the floor of the laundry in Sophie’s embrace, while her tears soaked my blouse. After I helped her to stand, she hid her face until she reached the sanctity of her bedroom and emerged minutes later looking fresh and breezy with a new mask. As I watched her count down to the New Year in Patrick’s arms, a seething pit started to gnaw away in my stomach.

Patrick could never be the same again.

Even now, as he gently caressed Sophie’s face with his hands, I could only see them around her throat or crushing her face against a wall. Bile burned the back of my throat as I considered my own anguish for the year that had nearly ended and I had yet to fulfil my pact with Sophie. With lead in my feet, I shuffled to the front door to get some air, unable to stomach the sickening pantomime occurring inside.

A cool winter’s breeze welcomed me as I skulked outside. A thin film of ice coated the veranda and had cascaded down the front steps. I took a moment to admire the fog that I puffed out with each warm breath. As I heard the music change inside, heavy footsteps stalked towards the front door and suddenly Patrick appeared beside me.

“A bit fresh out, isn’t it?” He took another swig of the beer he was holding.

How many of Sophie’s bruises had been the result of Patrick drinking too many of them I wondered?

“The line-up to the bathroom was ridiculous so I thought I’d just do it out here. Hope you don’t mind.” He didn’t seem particularly concerned with knowing my response and I was too distracted by this opportunity to be offended.

As he started to stagger down the steps, his large shoes, slipping and sliding on the ice, a plan magically fell into place. Everything happened so quickly and yet, at the same, somehow in slow motion. Seizing the chance I gently nudged his foot forward from under him and watched as he flailed backwards. By some miracle I calculated the exact location to tap the rock into position on the top step so that his head came crashing down on top of it.

I watched with intrigue as the last wisp of breath escaped his lips and the remaining flicker of recognition ebbed from his eyes.

It was the blood that seeped onto the steps that shook me back to reality. I screamed with everything I had inside me and was soon surrounded by a mob of people. Would be heroes barked orders to call 911 as they attempted CPR in the midst of the shrieking masses. In the distance, the parties of people in the neighbourhood could be heard counting down from ten.

The crack of fireworks filled the air around us. I glanced at Sophie and saw her porcelain face begin to delicately shatter, piece by piece as the talented actress put on a show for her friends of the distraught girlfriend.

One sideways glance to confirmed that I had finally kept my New Year’s Resolution.